THE CULMINATION
"Up you get, sir!"
"What, what!"
Guillaumin was in front of me, smiling and swinging a lantern. Half-joking, he repeated: "I think we're in for it, sir!"
I got up. Shadows were moving round us. The sharp air stung. The night was clear but moonless. I asked what time it was. Three o'clock.
I immediately had a pleasant surprise. That form on the road—"Humel!" I dashed at him. "Hulloa, my boy! So you got through!"
"By jove! It was a bit of luck," he acknowledged.
I hungrily clamoured for details.
He explained: "You see, as long as we stayed in the trench, things went all right. We managed to hold the Bosches. They weren't particularly keen to face the bayonet. But at night we had no more ammunition. The men got unstrung and wanted to do a bunk. Delafosse opposed it—as you may imagine. Some of them began to slope off. The lieutenant made up his mind to it, and we followed them. But the Bosches got wind of it and opened fire at us. That's when we got cut up—not one out of four got away."